


Our Sleep Is Cursed

by HarkaSun



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alcoholic Booker | Sebastien le Livre, Drabble, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Has Issues, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/F, Family Feels, Friendship/Love, Immortal Wives Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Quynh | Noriko, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani and Nicky | Nicolò di Genova Acting Like a Married Couple, M/M, Nightmares, Romance, Team as Family, The Team Has Trauma, looking after each other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:35:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26643847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarkaSun/pseuds/HarkaSun
Summary: Every member of the team has nightmares. Their lives are long and messy and each of them has seen and done things that haunt their dreams. Comfort is a difficult thing to accept in their lives, but they are family and they will be there for each other through anything and everything.
Relationships: Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Quynh | Noriko, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 3
Kudos: 75





	1. The Team

**Author's Note:**

> So, I just wanted to explore how I consider that the team might go through nightmares (and what each of them might dream about) so here we go!

They all handled nightmares differently simply because they all dreamed of different things.

Andy would wake with her hand clenched around her opposite wrist, breathing hard and shaking, fighting to push hair back from her face that simply wasn’t there anymore. She dreamed of Quynh mostly, of the witch trials that had separated them.

She always left the room with insistent grumbles that she was fine, but she wouldn’t sleep again for days. It was only Quynh that could convince her to rest. Even then, it took hours of quiet conversation between the two of them, speaking words only for each other. For days, weeks sometimes, after her nightmares, Andy and Quynh would sleep with their fingers entwined, a simple reminder to Andy that she was there.

Booker woke sobbing over apologies, begging the team to forgive him for his betrayal—the one they had forgiven years ago now. He dreamed of them shunning him, of never forgiving him, of berating and blaming him. He dreamed of eternal loneliness.

Whoever was closest would hold him and utter forgiveness and reassurance until he believed it. He would try to drink, but someone always tactfully hid his flask before he would try to grab it. They would hold him tighter then, when he realised it was gone. He would struggle, but, in the end, they all knew it was for the best.

Nile would wake gasping, a hand to her throat, before they fell to clench into her legs, a grounding technique to remind herself that she was alive. She dreamed of being killed. It was what they had all dreamed of at the start, so it was natural of her to be dreaming of it now.

Usually Nicky would be the one to comfort her. She always tried to insist she was okay, tried to go back to sleep after it happened, but rarely with any luck. Nicky would stay up with her. They spoke of God a lot; Joe would join them sometimes. They kept their faith together.

Quynh had to be woken. She would thrash and choke and Andy would have to grab her, shake her awake and run steady fingers through her hair. She dreamed of being trapped in that box under the sea, of drowning over and over again for centuries.

To her credit, she usually recovered from those dreams quick enough, but she would mutter incessantly to herself for days afterwards. Being trapped down there had done things to her that might never be undone. It was a difficult thing to accept, for Andy in particular.

Nicky woke in tears, but silent. He would wipe his hands to his cheeks, turn himself so he could bury his face in Joe’s chest. He dreamed of those that they had failed to save, those who died begging for salvation. He felt every one of them so fiercely.

Joe often said that his heart was too big for his own good. Regardless, his beloved always held him a little tighter when this happened, regardless of whether or not his sleep was broken. It was muscle memory at this point. Nicky often let himself drift off again in Joe’s arms.

Joe woke in grunts with fists flying and, more often than not, Nicky got stuck in his fighting arc. Sometimes a couple of the others had to help pull him back while the rest got Joe under control. He dreamed of the crusades, of fighting for his life and losing, of Nicky being the one to kill him.

He was strong; even in sleep it took three of them to pin him down. Someone got him in a chokehold—it was usually Andy, just because she was most experienced—and didn’t let up until Joe woke and tapped out. The others would ensure he was okay, but depart quickly when Joe gave them the all clear. He would draw Nicky close to his chest, press their forehead’s together, apologise over and over for hurting him, talk out his fears until they made sense.

Regardless of who it was or when it happened, the team would band together to keep one another safe and comforted. Certain people would be preferable to some; Quynh needed Andy and Nicky needed Joe and vice versa, but, in the end, everyone was there for each other. That was what it meant to be a team. To be a family.


	2. Nicolò di Genova (Nicky) and Yusuf Al-Kaysani (Joe)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nicky wakes quiet and tearful; Joe is there to comfort him.
> 
> Joe wakes fighting and screaming; the team are there to steady him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even if it's only for the enjoyment of @Shelly_Holmes and myself, welcome to chapter two: a more in-depth look at Joe and Nicky's nightmares!

Nicky was perhaps the only one of them who didn’t wake the others with his dreams.

It was different when he was woken. Being startled awake triggered his fight or flight—and flight had never been an option—and he had a gun in hand before most of the others could even react. The instinct was to protect his friends, his family. More often than not, he still needed to protect them, but the gun wasn’t necessary. Nightmares took time and patience and Nicky was more than happy to listen to the troubles of his family.

On more than one occasion, Nile and Quynh had approached him—less experienced in the team than the others—and asked how it was that he never dreamed. Nicky assured them that he did in fact dream, just that he woke more quietly than the others. Over time, they had come to recognise the signs of his nightmares. He would be quiet the next day, his eyes would be more darkly shadowed than usual, Joe would keep him close and murmur to him and Nicky would nod, but not reply.

Most telling, however, was their day beforehand. Nicky’s dreams were triggered by missions. More specifically, missions that had gone wrong, where someone had been hurt badly or where they had lost a civilian. Deep down, Nicky knew it didn’t really matter if they were hurt—unless of course it was Andy—but it didn’t stop the really bad wounds from haunting his dreams.

He dreaded to sleep after bad missions, because he knew what would come of them. Joe had to convince him otherwise. None of them got enough sleep to begin with.

It was one of those bad missions. It was the worst they’d had for a while and Nicky was sullen as they made their way to the safehouse. No one spoke. Joe was leaning on him for support, his wounds still healing even after several minutes of gaining them. They had to leave, however; they risked discovery by staying.

They risked being arrested as _terrorists_ by staying.

The terrorists in question were very dead at this point, but not before slaughtering their hostages and trying to do the same to the team. Their intel was vastly underinformed and the terrorists had masses of firepower. Joe been caught in an explosion trying to save the last hostages. He was still regrowing a lot of his chest and half of his face. It wasn’t a pretty sight.

The most concerning thing was that Joe didn’t even have the heart to complain or to make some stupid quip. They had lost the hostages and Joe was in too much pain.

In a safehouse deep in the woods, Nicky cleaned the blood from his immortal lover and Joe did the same for him, murmuring to him softly, trying to assure him that tonight would be fine, that they could get through it together. Nicky couldn’t even pretend to believe him. He knew what tonight would bring and it did not disappoint.

In the dead of night, in the quiet lounge of the cabin, Nicky woke with wet cheeks, his hand tight upon Joe’s own, his mind filled with images of the hostage’s bodies and Joe’s, his ears filled with their screams. The wet salt of tears seeped between his lips and he absently licked them away, palming them high on his cheeks.

Turning over on the narrow sofa, he buried his face against Joe’s chest, fighting back a sob that threatened to wreck his throat. It was just them in the lounge, but Nicky didn’t want to trouble Joe any more than he wanted to worry the rest of the team. Joe’s arms tightened around him, shifting a little, and his lips came to linger upon the crown of Nicky’s head. It was grounding in the best possible way. Nicky clenched a hand into the back of Joe’s shirt.

“It’s okay, my love,” Joe murmured, his voice heavy with sleep. “We’re okay.”

“We let them die,” Nicky said, barely a whisper. “We should’ve saved them… You scared me so much. You didn’t have to get hurt.”

Joe shook his head, tightened his hold on Nicky. “We can’t save everyone, Nicky, you know that… and I’m fine. You don’t need to worry about me. Immortality has those perks. You never have to worry about me leaving you.”

“We can still die, Joe,” Nicky muttered. “Andy—”

Joe hushed him, cut him off. “You can’t fear that, my darling. We have time… I am not leaving this world without you. I promise you that.”

Nicky breathed out slowly. “Still, I hate to see you like that.”

“And I you,” Joe murmured, pulled back a little so he could see Nicky’s face, “but we’re okay, Nicolò. Everyone’s okay. We can learn from this and we’ll do better next time.” His hand came to thumb the tears from Nicky’s cheeks, for the first time since the mission, Nicky felt some semblance of peace. “Do you want to talk about today? I’ll listen.”

Nicky shook his head. “Just… keep holding me, please. I just want to know that you’re here… I _need_ to know you’re here with me.”

Joe clicked his tongue, cradled a hand to the back of Nicky’s head. “Sono qui,” he murmured, kissed her lover’s brow. “Sono qui. Nicolò.”

Nicky breathed out slowly, closed his eyes and pressed himself close to Joe’s chest. He didn’t sleep. Sometimes he tried to insist that he had, but Joe always saw right through him. The dark circles under his eyes were always ever darker after nights like those. Joe would stay up with him, but neither of them ever said a word.

To outside eyes, they would have been sleeping. The way that Joe held him, however—tighter than usual and never letting up for a second—proved to Nicky that he was awake, that he was here. He whispered things sometimes, soft promises and assurances in Nicky’s ear and, by God, he was so grateful to be there in his arms.

Joe was with him. Joe would always be with him, whatever happened; of that, Nicky was certain. Sometimes it felt like the only certain thing in his life. Joe’s love was strong and selfless, all-consuming and overwhelming and Nicky knew that he couldn’t be in better hands, that he couldn’t be more loved.

It was a good thing to be certain of.

* * *

In the time that Quynh and Booker had returned—and even since Nile had joined them—Joe had yet to be haunted by dreams. The others often marvelled at that. Joe said nothing to deter them, but, inside, he was worried for them to witness it. Even for Nicky—who had witnessed more than anyone—Joe’s nightmares were a bit much.

When it finally happened while they were all together, it came as a shock to them all. On one hand, it was simply because Joe’s nightmares were few and far between. On the other, it was because he woke screaming.

They had settled in for the night after a day of travelling, putting as much distance as possible between themselves and their last mission. They settled in a cave in Northern Ireland; one of their oldest hideouts. It was always a little damp, even if it hadn’t rained for months, but it was safe and well hidden and well-provisioned with camping supplies.

The shadows of the cave made it impossible to distinguish between night and day, but, as always, they slept when they could. Andy had her arm draped over Quynh’s abdomen. Joe held Nicky to his chest. Nile and Booker found their own space, but still close enough that no one could stretch out an arm or a leg without hitting another. There were candles flickering from their mounts upon a few of the flatter rocks around them. The team rested in the safety of their cavernous hideout.

When Joe screamed, however, silence was a distant memory.

Nicky hastily scrambled to sitting to find Joe on his back beside him, shrieking and thrashing and crying out in Arabic, and Nicky had to grab his arms to hold him down. He clutched a knife, but Nicky disarmed him with a quick twist of his hand. There was blood on the bedroll beneath them. Nicky felt the heat of it run down his cheek.

The others were talking around him—maybe they were talking to him—, but Nicky had no time for them. Andy came to Joe’s head, grabbed him in a chokehold. Booker dived upon his kicking legs, pinned him down to the bedroll. Joe fought them with every ounce of strength he could muster and Nicky grunted in pain as he was caught with a failing fist.

“Fuck,” Booker growled as Joe’s knee connected hard with his jaw. “Nile—”

“I’ve got him,” said Nile, grabbing around Joe’s legs just above the knees, leaning against him with her whole weight. Quynh took an arm, teeth gritted at the effort of keeping him down.

“Andy,” Nicky gasped in panic, struggling with Joe’s other arm, feeling his fight weakening. “Yusuf, destarsi… Destarsi! Yusuf… Andy, please—”

Andy shook her head, her eyes flitting between Joe’s creased expression and twitching arms, trying to gauge how close he was to blacking out, looking for signs of consciousness, of awareness. Nicky’s eyes were narrowed in badly concealed panic, holding Joe and sending a silent prayer that he would wake before Andy choked him out.

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind, Joe’s eyes were snapping open, the hand on the arm held by Quynh giving the floor urgent slaps. Andy released him from the choke, held his head as he coughed and gulped for breath. The other eased their hold, shifting away, but Nicky grabbed Joe’s hand, held him tight and edged close.

“Yusuf,” he urged, simply desperate for his love to recognise him in the present and not as he was when they first met.

“I’m fine,” Joe insisted, though his voice was hoarse and choked. The arm Quynh had released came to grasp at Nicky’s arm. “I’m alright, Nicolò.”

Nicky breathed hard, still panicked by Joe’s dreams even after a millennium of dealing with them. “You scared me,” he admitted, lifted Joe’s hand to his lips and pressed a lingering kiss to his knuckles. “Are you okay?”

Joe nodded, pushed his hand against the bedroll and sat himself up. His gaze came to Nicky’s face, narrowing his eyes in anxiety as he thumbed at the smear of blood across his cheek. “I hurt you,” he said, his voice low and sullen and Nicky shook his head, took Joe’s hand in his own.

“It wasn’t your fault. You were dreaming.”

“Joe,” Andy said gently, almost impossibly so. “Are you okay?”

Nodding slowly, Joe forced a smile that didn’t touch his eyes. “I’m fine. I’m sorry for waking you.”

The others immediately mumbled that it didn’t matter, that they were here for him no matter what. As grateful as he was for their comfort, Joe didn’t want them right now. He wanted Nicky. The others apparently sensed this—even their newest members were getting good at anticipating one another's needs—because they were departing within seconds.

Once they were alone— as alone as the cave could allow—Joe looked to Nicky, his eyes low and hesitant. “You killed me again,” he murmured, forcing a weak chuckle as his hand went to rub at the back of his neck. “I was scared of you. You hated me.”

Nicky shook his head. “That was a long time ago,” he said, tilted his head as he reached for Joe’s hand, relieved when his love didn’t pull away. “I would never hurt you now, amore.”

“I know,” Joe murmured, grasped Nicky’s hand a little tighter. “I know.” He lifted his gaze to Nicky’s own. “We were barely more than children, Nicolò. We didn’t know what we were doing.”

“We knew,” Nicky corrected softly. “I was just wrong.”

Joe shook his head. “I don’t want to hear that,” he protested, lifted their joined hands and kissed the inside of Nicky’s wrist. He couldn’t stand to hear Nicky talk like that, blaming himself for how they began. They both needed a distraction. “Will you come outside with me? I want to see the sky.”

They took some coats from a stash by the cave wall and wrapped one another up, making their exit only when satisfied the other was warm enough. The air outside was brisk and chilled and their breath clouded with every exhale. Joe let his head back, breathing hard and slow in the cold air, staring up at the stars glistening between tree branches.

They speak a little, exchange words of times long past, but never forgotten. Nicky wrapped his arms around Joe’s waist, kissed the back of his neck before he buried his face there, sighed slowly and softly and Joe allowed his nightmare to bury itself in the back of his mind, just for a moment.

The night was quiet and Nicky loved him. Whatever their past, Joe knew that he couldn’t focus on that, regardless of what his dreams tried to push at him. The present was all that mattered. Their time here and now, with the stars above him and Nicky’s arms around him; it was all that mattered.

**Author's Note:**

> Following chapters will be focusing on individuals in more depth! Planning on two characters per chapter!


End file.
